


Mistletoe

by Eviesreality



Category: DracoxHarry - Fandom, Drarry - Fandom, Harry Potter - Fandom, HarryxDraco - Fandom
Genre: Christmas Eve, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Party, Fluff, HP - Freeform, Harry Potter - Freeform, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, Mistletoe, Oneshot, Post War, Short Story, eighth year, jk rowling - Freeform, post war harry potter, rowling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-24
Updated: 2017-05-24
Packaged: 2018-11-04 09:47:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10988409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eviesreality/pseuds/Eviesreality
Summary: A Christmas Eve Eighth-year Oneshot.Neither Harry or Draco want to be at the eighth year's Christmas party. But it still comes as a surprise to both of them when they end up running to the same pub.





	Mistletoe

**Harry**

Look, It's not that I don't like Christmas. I love Christmas. At least, I did. But that's the thing about war: it fucks everything up.

This time last year, I was in Godric's Hollow with Hermione, trying to fight Voldemort. So I suppose this year should be a vast improvement, considering I'm not on the run from a crazy psychopathic dark wizard and all that, but it isn't. In fact, it sucks balls. Which is why I'm currently sitting here, in The Three Broomsticks, with half a pint of Firewhiskey and no one to talk to. Everyone I might be with is currently getting wasted back at the eighth year dorm's Christmas Party, leaving me to run away from the crowds on my own. I don't mind that though - I find it increasingly difficult to be around people these days.

There are plus sides to being a recluse. You learn a lot about people because, as you aren't talking to anyone, you can watch other people talk to each other. You see things no one else notices: furtive glances, wondering eyes, the briefest change in expression. You get very good at guessing people's relationships to each other. So I'm not actually just sitting here, looking sad and lonely. I'm observing. And it is as I'm observing that I notice none other than Draco Malfoy walk in, looking positively pissed off. In fact, he's so angry that when he opens the door, he does it with enough force to knock heavily into a dwarf, who had been standing - and was now lying on his face - behind it. The little guy springs up, and appears to be about to verbally assault Malfoy, but Draco gets's there first. I can't hear what he's saying, but all anger disappears from his face as he apologises profusely. The dwarf, clearly disarmed, nods gruffly before turning back round to continue whatever conversation he's having. Draco's face returns to its previous angry expression, and he stalks over to the bar, taking the only empty seat - the one beside me. He hasn't noticed me yet, and orders a shot of thick liqueur. Only after downing the shot does he catch sight of me.

"Oh. Potter. Didn't see you there."

I look him up and down, taking in his dishevelled appearance, and a scratch down the side of his neck which is still staining his white shirt with blood. Draco and I aren't on good terms. We aren't on bad terms either. We're not really on terms, at all. We don't have any classes together, so we don't need to be.

"Rough night?" I ask, not really joking.

He turns away and studies his empty shot glass. "If you count two of the people you used to think of as friends cornering you outside the dorm and attempting to beat the shit out of you, then yes. It has been a rather rough night."

I don't immediately answer, but instead get the barman's attention and ask him for some wet paper towels.

"Here," I hand them to him. "Put these against the cut on your neck."

He doesn't thank me, just takes the towels and holds them against his torn skin. I sip my Firewhiskey. Eventually, he turns to me again.

"So, Chosen One, why're you here? Shouldn't you be with your adoring fans at the party?"

I raise my eyebrows. "You really think I want to be at a party? I hate people."

Draco shrugs. "I didn't know that. I don't know anything about you."

"Neither do I." I laugh. He looks confused.

"What d'you mean by that?"

I shake my head. "Nothing."

He turns to look at me, piercing blue eyes studying my face, and the turns back to the bar and orders another two of his chocolate liqueurs.

"Look at us," He says moodily. "It's fucking Christmas Eve. We should be happy." and he hands me one of the drinks.

"To being moody little shites on Christmas Eve", I say, and tip the drink back. The thick liqueur makes my eyes water and I'm amazed that Draco isn't drunk after having two, plus whatever he drank at the Party. As it is, I can feel myself tipping over the edge from slightly giddy to rather tipsy within a few seconds of swallowing the alcohol. Draco looks at me, amused.

"Looks like you can't hold your drink, Potter."

"Shhhhhh- shut up." I say, trying and failing to keep myself from slurring. "I already had a firewhiskey." He just laughs. He has a nice laugh, I notice absently.

"So," Draco starts, the alcohol probably making him talkative, "How's life, Potter?"

"Spiffing," I say, and actually hear myself giggle a little at the old-fashioned word.

"Life post-war suiting you, then?"

I look at him, and realise I can't answer the simple yes or no question. If I say yes, I'll be lying. If I say no, I'll sound like an ungrateful twat. Eventually, I just shrug. "It's a big change."

"Don't lie to me, Potter, I can see right through you. You hate it."

Through my tipsy haze, I look at him with what I hope is a serious face. "You try having a single reason to live for seventeen years, and then very suddenly having it ripped away from you. At least during the war I knew that I had a purpose: to win or lose. Now I just exist."

It's the first time I've told anyone that, and I must admit, I've shocked myself a little. I mean, it's one thing to confess something like that, but quite another to say it to someone who, until relatively recently, you considered to be your enemy. I order another drink for us to cover the silence, this time getting us both half-pints of firewhiskey.

Draco thinks about what I've said for quite a while, sipping his drink. "I thought you had Ginny, though? Doesn't going out with her give you something like a purpose? You know: get married, have kids, settle down?"

I actually laugh at that. "You seriously have no idea what's been going on, have you? I thought everyone'd heard?"

He shakes his head haphazardly - clearly the drinks are beginning to have more effect.

"I broke up with Ginny about a month ago."

"Why? I thought you were in love with her?"

"Hey," I gesture with my drink and spill some of it down my front, making Draco laugh at me, "I do _love her,_ I'm just not _in love_ with her. To be honest, I've come to realise that I, well, I guess I play for another team, if you catch my drift."

Okay, now I've _really_ surprised myself. I just came out to Draco Malfoy?!

He looks as surprised as I feel. "Wait, you're _gay_?"

Well, there's not really much use denying it now. "Yeah, I am."

Wow. It feels good to finally say it to someone. Even if it's him.

Draco stares at me, and then, without warning, bursts out laughing. "Oh, that's _brilliant!_ The saviour of the wizarding world is a bum boy! Haha!"

I feel myself go very red. "Shut up, you dickhead. It's not that big of a deal. Should've known you'd be homophobic."

Draco looks at me again, surprised, and then starts laughing even harder.

"What?" I ask, getting kind of annoyed now. "What's so funny?"

"You think _I'm_ homophobic?" He giggles. "Potter, I'm _gay._ " Then he theatrically slaps a hand over his mouth. "You're not meant to know that!"

"You're gay? That explains everything!" I say, a little louder than I meant to. Draco pushes a hand over my mouth.

"Shut up, Potter! It's a sssecret." Now he's slurring, too. It's nice to see him undignified for a change.

"Well, now we're even. You know my secret and I know yours. Hey, this calls for shots!"

Draco raises one blonde eyebrow. "We haven't even finished our firewhiskey, Potter."

"Shhhhhh," I say, handing him a shot. "Here's to..."

"Being fuck ups," Draco finishes for me, downing his shot, and then taking a gulp of his firewhiskey. I do the same, and feel as though the shot is melting my brain (in a pleasant way).

So, as the night continues, we get drunker and the music gets louder. Soon it's eleven thirty, and we're both falling over a little. I had no idea hanging out with Malfoy could be this fun. Eventually, he turns to me from watching the live band and slurs -

"Harry, I wanna go home now. I'm tirreeed,"

I blink, surprised at the use of my first name. "Well o _kay_ then, let's go,"

"Okay,"

"Okay,"

"Okay,"

At this point, someone behind us who has had much less to drink than us says, loudly,

"If you guys don't get a room within two minutes, I am going to explode."

Draco and I gasp at exactly the same moment.

"Sleep with _him_?" Draco cries. "But he's _yucky,"_

 _"_ Speak for yourself," I say, trying to poke Draco in the side and almost over-balancing in the process, "You're gross."

"Come on, let's leave this idiot to himself," Draco attempted to regally inspect the stranger, and succeeding in looking incredibly silly. "Good day, suh!"

As we stumble out into the freezing winter night, Draco gives a yelp. "It's so cold! Gimme your jacket!"

"I think you mean 'gimme your jacket _please',"_

Draco just pouts. I sigh. "Fine,"

"Thank you Harry," He giggles, grabbing my jacket, "You're such a gentleman!"

I try to ignore the feeling I get when he says my name.

We stumble on drunkenly, leaning on each other for stability, along the snowy road back to Hogwarts. The only light comes from the ornate lamps dotted at intervals along the pavement. The, suddenly, we hear bells in the distance.

"Harry," Draco says, quietly, "I think it's Christmas,"

I nod, looking at him looking at me, and realise that we aren't walking anymore. Then, Draco steps in closer, and I feel our heads drawing nearer, nearer-

"Whoa!" Draco yelps, slipping and crashing forward on the icy road straight into me, causing me to stumble backwards and loose my footing. Together, we both topple back and I hit the ground hard, nearly hitting my head against the cold stone ground, Draco's landing is softened by me, so all I hear from him is a small 'oof' as he faceplants my stomach. I can't help but giggle drunkenly as he haphazardly attempts to remove his face from my chest.

"Sorry," He laughs, "it's slippy,"

"You don't say," I grin sarcastically. Then, something hanging from the lamp over our heads catches my eye, and I look up. Draco follows my gaze.

"Mistletoe," He says quietly, before looking back at me.

"Mistletoe," I agree.

And then we're kissing, his hands holding me tight as the last of the bells chime in the background. And I realise that this is the best Christmas Eve I've ever had.


End file.
